


Chains of Fate

by ftbprotocol



Series: Bunnies I Might Continue [8]
Category: Final Fantasy X, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Episode Ardyn Spoilers, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Gen Work, Hurt/Comfort, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftbprotocol/pseuds/ftbprotocol
Summary: The Oracle, guided by messengers not approved of by the Gods, makes her way to Angelguard to see the truth with her own eyes. Yuna, reborn as Sylva Fleuret, is left with a decision: to leave the one in chains or to free him. This is her story.I just needed someone else to go free Ardyn and why not Yuna/Sylva?
Relationships: Sylva Via Fleuret & Ardyn Izunia
Series: Bunnies I Might Continue [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809706
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28
Collections: Identity Crisis





	1. Setting Out

She drifted in the place between wakefulness and dreams.

As her physical body rested on the shores of a beach, so too did her dream self stand on glistening sand. Though instead of the hard packed sand juxtaposed by hard forbidding rock, she was surrounded by bright green foliage and trees the likes of which she only ever saw here, on the beach of her dreams.

She hovered in her half aware state, enjoying the peaceful sound of the waves, contemplating the strange brown trunks. They were bare of branches until the very top where the leaves seemed to sprout from the crown in layers, with leaves shaped like ferns.

It was a view she so rarely had the time to stop and admire, this strange picture of foreign foliage. Usually her dreams were of actions and events, all dramatic and filled with emotion. Very rarely was she able to stop and marvel at the strange sights revealed to her in dreams. Of places and people that didn't exist in her waking hours.

A slight disturbance caught her attention, signalling the end to her peaceful contemplation.

She heaved a sigh and spoke, voice almost swallowed by the waves, "I know you're there."

On the edge of her dream, a small form took shape. It was a young girl in a green dress, although the details of her features were as indistinct as ever.

"I thought you'd be happier, I'm doing as you wanted."

There was no reply from the girl.

She kept her eyes focused on the strange trees, knowing from past experience that if she tried to observe her directly the girl would fade from the dream.

"Going against centuries of tradition, just to discover the truth of what may as well be a fairy tale." Her voice held no censure, only regret at what choosing to walk this path had already wrought. It was the end of the last vestiges of her childhood, the end of trusting that mother truly did know best.

A brown head bowed and she could feel that it was in silent apology.

Pale blond hair fluttered in a silent breeze as she let out a frustrated breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just…"

The young girl took a few steps closer, green sandals leaving the sand undisturbed.

"I trust you, I do." She reassured the young figure. "It's why I came so far after all. I'm just… scared," the last word passing on a whispered breath. A quiet, almost hysterical giggle followed, "They're going to be so cross with me when they find out. And I've always striven so hard to live up to their expectations. To lose it all like this is… hard."

The brown haired girl took a few steps closer still.

"You still won't tell me why I need to see it for myself?" She sighed, blond hair blowing in the wind.

Through the haze that always seemed to follow the young girl in the green dress, she could almost make out a mouth moving, though no sound reached her ears. As ever, the voice was unable to reach her. A small part of her always wondered if it was due to a failing on her part. Was she unworthy? After all these years, why could she still not hear her voice?

It was this insecurity that had driven her to ever pious heights, till none could dare question her devotion to the Gods. But no matter what she did, it was never enough. Her childhood companion remained silent.

"I should stop stalling, shouldn't I?" She spoke more to herself than to the girl. She closed her eyes against the peaceful sight, though loath to do so. She always felt the most at peace when she was here, a beach she'd never visited in the waking world with plants so fantastical she often wondered how they could ever come to be.

A soft hand on her shoulder, offering her both a silent apology for what was being asked of her as well as support for the trials that lay ahead. A promise to always be at her side. Her eyes flew open wide at the touch, meeting the now glowing eyes of the young girl.

For the first time, the blond could see that she was quite a bit taller than the green-robed girl. Her eyes glowed faintly with an otherworldly light, the colour of the sun.

The dream around them faded into darkness, until all that was left were the twin pinpricks of light.

She awoke with a gasp, blinking up into the darkened cavern above her head. It had been early afternoon when she'd first arrived beneath the sheltering rock, now night had begun to fall, casting deep shadows all around her.

She blinked up into the eyes of her faithful partner. The dark red of her plumage was almost black with no light to reflect their usual vibrancy. A faint golden glow seemed to emanate from the hawk's eyes, but it was gone between one blink and the next.

The ocean was beginning to lap at her ankles as the tide came in. The cold sensation cleared the last of the dreamy fog from her eyes and she sat up. The motion was quick and energetic, her young body up and alert after her few hours long nap. It had been needed, for she feared she wouldn't be getting much sleep this night.

Rocking slightly with the waves, the nose of the small boat she had procured tilted from side to side. It was the smallest she'd been able to find, just large enough for two people to sit facing each other comfortably. A small motor sat propped up out of the sand. It had cost most of the money she had brought to buy the thing.

Pulling her bare ankles out of the surf, she quickly stood and padded over to the boat to retrieve her boots, lightly dusting the sand free from her feet with her socks. A quick shake with one hand knocked most of the sand out of the back of her head. She slipped her feet into the practical brown hiking boots, dusting the last of the sand off her dark blue pants.

A flutter of wings heralded the arrival of her companion, now perched at the prow.

She smiled slightly and said, "I'm going, I'm going."

The boat hadn't been tied down, for the blond had trusted her friend to wake her when it was time to head out. With a run and a push, she propelled the boat into the deep waters, having positioned it near a steep drop in the sand bank. The tips of her boots briefly caught the water before she leapt, landing securely in the boat.

With motions she'd spent the morning practising, she set the quiet motor into the water and got it running, powered by the small battery secured under her seat. The blades cut through the water, propelling her out of the hidden alcove and out into the open sea.

There was no moon to guide her, only the faint light of the stars marked her passage. The little boat easily cut through the faint waves brought about by the light breeze, scattering the boat's wake. In the distance, a few lights hung suspended above an open beach, giving the impression that the stars had come to ground.

The small resort village was quiet, and she was grateful that it was late enough that most were asleep at home. As curious as she was to experience the beaches of Galdin, with their strange trees so similar to the ones in her dreams, she would not be diverted from her path.

Rising up before her, the great rocky spires of Angelguard were silhouetted against the stars. What awaited her there she did not know. All she knew for sure was that she would find out for herself the truth of the monster the Lucians had sealed there long ago. The one they called Adagium.

Back in the little cove she'd just left, the faint outline of a young boy whispered on the wind.

_'Sylva Via Fleuret, please… remember.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An idea I had after playing Episode Ardyn that I finally cleaned up enough to post. I tried to come up with a reason for why Sylva would put aside all her religious indoctrination and visit Angelguard and this was the result. It also stemmed from me wishing Luna had been more like Yuna and fought against her fate.
> 
> It's a two parter for now, which should be up shortly, though I may one day add more. And/or if people are interested, I could add a chapter showing how Yuna came to be reborn as Sylva.


	2. Into the Prison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to hismomoness for the Beta. Much appreciated, especially cause they read it fandom blind :)

The way into the tomb was sealed.

The moonless night had hid Sylva's approach and her faithful hawk circled above to warn her of the island guards’ movements. But now that Sylva stood before the entrance, she was stalled. Runes marked the door to keep the beast contained within. Their magic had faded over the centuries, but as her small hands felt along the carved stone she could feel faint pulses through her palms.

Faded as they were, the runes still contained more power than any haven she’d seen her mother strengthen over the course of her duty. The thought sent a slight shiver through her frame at what sort of power the daemon within must contain.

After many tense minutes of fruitless searching for a way in, with no sign of an opening in either the stone or the magic that she could slip through, she pressed her forehead to the smooth stone and prayed.

“Messenger, if you really do want me to see the daemon for myself, then lend me your aid.”

Her punishment would have been swift had anyone back home heard her speak so casually to a messenger of the gods. The tightness in her chest betrayed her fear, and she grew frustrated at her failing attempts to calm her trembling hands.

A grinding of stone on stone, horrifically loud in the quiet night, wrenched her back from the door. Before her eyes, a small gap appeared. The runes glowed enough to be visible with her naked eyes before fading back into complete dormancy.

She frowned briefly, a little disappointed her prayer had been answered. Though she trusted both the gods and her messengers completely, they had never tested her faith in this manner before. To travel the world and heal the people like her mother did—that was all she’d thought would be asked of her. It was all the other messenger had ever asked of her.

Sylva’s legs locked, unable to move towards the impenetrable darkness that awaited her inside the tomb. What sort of horrible creature slept within?

She jerked to the side at movement at her elbow. Beside her a small, robed, semi-transparent form was visible. A purple hood adorned his head and hid his face, gold trim reflecting some unseen light.

_‘Thank you for coming.’_

Sylva gasped at the voice, shocked by the clear and soft soprano of a young boy. It matched his short stature, but his childlike qualities belied his ancient nature.

"I can hear you so clearly,” she said. Usually what little she could make out was but a faint whisper in her ear. This time the words rang clearly in her mind. So clear she wondered if any listeners would be able to hear his voice. Normally only the Oracles can hear the voices of the Gods and their messengers.

The shrouded head nodded. _‘This place is strong with the power of the gods.’_

"Will you now tell me why you asked me to come here?" she asked, desperate for answers.

The purple hood turned towards her. _‘To see the truth. With eyes unclouded by fear and hate.’_

He walked forward and through the opening, his bare arms not even brushing the door. _No, come back!_ she wanted to shout, the joy of conversing with this messenger she so rarely saw filling her chest. But as quickly as he appeared he was gone, swallowed by the waiting darkness.

The fear that had frozen her legs, while not completely gone, thawed enough to allow her to follow the elusive messenger.

Sylva descended into the depths slowly, cautiously. Her heart beat wildly as she took each tentative step, y, one hand raised in front while the other trailed along the wall. Quicker than she’d like, the faint light of the stars could no longer be seen through the crack in the stone.

Unable to quite contain her gulp, she flicked on her flashlight to reveal a slow decline broken by the odd shallow step. A fine layer of dust coated the floor and her boots. The trail she’d left was as obvious as if she was walking through the snow of Gralea.

On silent feet she descended the remaining steps, forcefully keeping her breathing quiet and even, her ears straining for the slightest sound from the monster below. The light didn’t reach far into the room below as she approached.

It was a losing battle to stop her mind from filling the dark spaces with the horrors that could be awaiting her.

The ever so slight sound of metal on metal had her freezing. Holding her breath. The sound was familiar, of chain links gently shifting against each other.

Was the daemon still chained down, as the stories claimed? Was it large and armoured with great claws that could rip her to shreds? Would it slither on the floor like some great coiled serpent while its head was a grotesque perversion of a human face? The images from the painting of prophecy swirled in her mind, the daemons coming alive in the shadows.

Sylva gathered her courage. It was too late to turn back now. She’d made a promise to her messengers. No matter how much her flashlight shook in her hands, or how difficult it was to keep her breath even, she was resolved to set her eyes on the beast. Even if all she wanted to do was sprint back up the stairs.

She was only a few steps from the bottom when her light caught on the dark metal of chains protruding from the floor. She paused.

Horns, she decided. The monster, Adagium, would most likely have horns. And great leathery wings. Many daemons had them. She took a deep breath to prepare herself for whatever was chained in the room, steeling herself to not make any noise in either disgust or fear. She didn’t want to alert the presumably slumbering beast, and there was no possible way it could top what her imagination cooked up.

She took the last remaining steps quicker than she meant to, determined to get this over with.

Despite all her mental preparation for the sight of the monster, nothing could have prepared her for the truth. A horrified cry exploded from her, quickly muffled by the hand she slapped over her mouth, eyes wide with disbelief.

No.

It had to be a trick.

It had to be.

The tales didn’t tell of an ability to shapeshift, but that had to be what this was! Her eyes had to be deceiving her. Her ancestors, and the Lucians, could not have been protecting all of Eos from **this** the whole time!

Before her, surrounded by runic stones and suspended by chains, a human man hung, head resting limply on his chest. Chains ending in vicious spikes stabbed into his bare torso. Some hooked around his ribs, while others pierced his sides and still more into his back. Both his arms were raised above his head, the sharp spikes protruding through his palms and cruelly holding them aloft. Rags hung from his waist, remnants of a robe of some kind with tattered pants that ended just below the knees. They had perhaps been white, once. Now they were grey with dust and other stains.

The front of his chest was free of chains. The path from the corridor to the daemon was clear. It was obscene. 

Bile came up the back of her throat. 

It was almost as if someone had put him on display.

Sylva approached Adagium slowly, unable to tear her eyes from the daemon in the form of a man. History claimed that it had been imprisoned here two thousand years ago. If that was true, then it was surely not human, no matter how much it looked like one.

Between one blink and the next, she found herself before it with no memory of the steps in between. She could now look up and see the face of this human shaped daemon, partially obscured by its long hair. But... was that stubble?

She peered up at it, twisting the light to try to see through the trick. For it had to be just that—a trick. It couldn’t actually be a human. That was impossible.

Laboured breathing reached her ears. She shuddered at the sound.

 _He’s alive_ , she thought numbly. _No! It. It is still alive_.

All around her the chains faintly clinked. She only took half a step away before she was arrested by the sight of a grimace on the man’s features.

A pained whine almost had her lurching forward, her instinct to heal rearing up unexpectedly and catching her off guard. _It’s a daemon. It may look like a man but it’s a daemon._ She repeated the words to herself to hold her legs in place.

The faint clanking of chains stopped. The daemon raised its shaggy head and squinted its eyes open and into her light. She was frozen, unable to move. The sight of it’s very human eyes peering at her stealing her breath.

“W-who…?” it wheezed out.

The breath she’d been holding came out in a whoosh, loud enough to make the man flinch and groan.

She didn’t know what to say. Or what to do. She hadn’t come here with a plan to actually **talk** with the daemon. Stubbornly believing the ancient texts and the truth her family had passed down for millennia, never, in her wildest imaginings, had she expected to find a man. A man who was in pain. Who was breathing. Who could ask a question.

“I…” she started, but then couldn’t think of what else to say, horror stealing her voice.

He grunted and tried to turn his head away from her, limited as his motions were. Guiltily, she shifted her light with shaking hands so it pointed at the ground, no longer blinding him. It was then that she noticed his legs were bound together in chains, dangling above the floor.

“A-Aera…?” The wheezed question brought her eyes up to meet the hazy dark eyes of Adagium. Was Aera a thing? A person? She didn’t know. It sounded vaguely familiar.

She’d fulfilled her promise. She had now seen the truth for herself, as her often silent messengers had asked. But… they’d never told her what to do after. Always a nudge on where to go, the sense of a great secret they wanted to reveal, but never what she was expected to do once she got there.

Did they want her to put this creature, this man, out of its misery?

He? It? She didn’t know what to call Adagium in her own mind.

“Can you… understand me?” she whispered, voice shaking. All previous thoughts of escaping the room had been pushed to the side.

Sylva reached out a hand and gently touched the tips of her fingers to his chest. He gasped, his face contorted—in either shock or pain, it was impossible to tell. Beneath the pads of her fingertips she felt the warm pulse of human blood.

“Have you been here… have the Lucians been…? The whole time…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. To name this as it appeared to be.

He shook his head and groaned. “Don’t…touch...”

Unable to help herself, she gently slid her fingertips up his sculpted chest until they reached his neck. He shuddered and jerked, moaning in pain until he stilled, panting loud in the suffocating room. Reaching the junction of his jaw, she had to rise up on her toes to feel for a pulse.

The act was a familiar one. One she had done countless times in her role as a healer. Even as she’d felt his chest rise and fall under her touch, she had to know. Had to **feel** that what she was seeing was true.

What should she do? They’d warned her. That once she’d seen the truth with her own eyes, she’d never be the same again. They’d been trying to convince her for years to come here. Never commanding, always asking. And she’d brushed them off with excuses.

Was this the legacy of her family? The dark secret of the noble line she’d been so proud to be born into?

Adagium is supposed to bring darkness to the world. And the chosen King of Lucis will herald the dawn. That is what the old prophecy stated.

The boy in the purple hood had claimed the Lucians were guarding not a daemon but a sacrifice. Were they holding him here, waiting for the chosen king to be born… just to sacrifice him? Is that why the path from the steps to where he hung was clear?

Bile again rose in the back of her throat. She took a step away from him and crouched. Head on her knees, she took deep breaths, forcing her stomach to settle.

 _It will be fine. I’ll talk to them. They’ll explain. It’ll be fine, s_ he repeated to herself over and over. A large part of her wanted to run back up those steps and into the crisp night. Forget everything she’d seen and learned here. Go back to the life where everything was simple. Travel the world and heal the sick, her only worry being the increasing spread of the Scourge and what it meant for Eos.

It took longer than expected for her stomach to settle. A groan from above had her looking up into half-lidded eyes, frowning down at her. “What are you… doing?” The question was threadbare and airy, difficult to hear over the thudding of her heart. “… you… alright?”

She ducked her head against her knees and pressed her eyes against them, willing herself not to cry. First she had to stop herself from throwing up, now she had to stop herself from turning into a sobbing mess. She internally winced at the scolding she’d receive if any of her tutors saw her in such an undignified position. Or if they saw her so emotional.

But how could he ask… if **she** was okay?

 _‘Do you understand, now?’_ The young boy appeared at the corner of her vision.

"I think... maybe. This is the truth you wanted me to see?”

_‘It is.’_

“But...The ancient texts claimed a great daemon was being imprisoned here. Not…” she trailed off, a part of her hoping to be told that the appearance of a man was just an illusion.

The boy said nothing, giving her no further information.

To see with eyes unclouded by hate—that is what she’d always been cautioned by this messenger. Whenever she was able to hear his voice, at least. It had always led to uncomfortable and awkward conversations with her mother and the older blind messenger.

But how could she reconcile what she was seeing here with what she’d always been taught?

“How is he even still alive?” She didn’t dare look up at the hanging man, instead focusing her eyes on his bare feet, noting the way the chains rubbed against his ankles and the heavy calluses on his soles.

_‘He’s been asleep… and dreaming. For a very… very long time.’_

The words stirred something in her, a pained sympathy. But the memory felt far away, like a half remembered dream. 

“Did I just wake him up?” she asked. “Then… shouldn’t I just leave him to his dreams? 

Did she just doom Eos?

_‘He wants the dream to end… we all… want the dream to end.’_

It seemed impossible. How could anyone survive so long? There was obviously more to the man than what he appeared to be. The fact that he hadn’t bled to death from the spikes alone was alarming. To also have survived for two thousand years...

“What... what is he?" she asked. She felt so helpless, what could she-what **should** she do?

 _‘A prisoner of fate,’_ the boy answered simply.

Though cryptic, she understood what he was referencing from their previous, sparse conversions. "The Gods ordained this?" she whispered, horrified, into her knees.

The purple hood nodded.

She buried her head deeper, fighting against the rising tide of revulsion threatening to wash her away.

Sylva buried her head back in her knees, trying not to feel sick again.

The old stories claimed that the first Oracle had traveled the world with the Founder King of Lucis, gained the blessings of the Gods, and sealed away a great evil. A daemon so terrible it almost swallowed the world. 

This man, whose hitched breathing spoke to the great pain he was in, was that daemon?

This must all just be a trick. An illusion to gain her sympathy. But to what end?

“What do you want me to do? Please, tell me what I should do,” she whispered.

‘ _I can’t.’_ The young boy shook his head. ‘ _The choice is yours. This is your story.’_

So unlike the other messenger. The woman who kept her eyes closed and told her what the Gods demanded of her.

She should leave. She’d done what had been asked of her, which was to sneak into the daemon’s cage and see it for herself. Her mother the Queen must be very worried by now, as Princess Sylva had left without informing anyone of her destination.

She’d left a note at least, telling her mother that she had left on a religious pilgrimage. But that was it. Any more and someone might have been able to find and stop her.

Going on the journey alone had been a great risk. Not only were there increasing numbers of daemons prowling the roads at night, but also people displaced by the war, preying on vulnerable travelers like herself. The only thing that had given her enough confidence to set out alone was the fact that her messengers were looking out for her. The red plumed hawk was her most ardent defender.

And now that she had made it here.... Now that she had seen what the young messenger had begged her to see...what should she do? What **could** she do?

The expected answer was nothing. The blind messenger, Getianna, would tell her to leave. She’d tell Sylva to forget what she’d witnessed here and return to her duties. That this did not concern her, that her duty lay elsewhere.

Unlike the young boy. He always pushed her to search for understanding. To form her own opinion. To trust in herself, when things felt wrong.

“The Chosen King isn’t even born yet. How much longer will he…?” She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, unable to finish the question.

The boy didn’t answer. She looked up from her knees to see that he was gone.

This decision was hers alone.

Sylva stared at the chained feet before her. She reached out and gently ran a hand over the metal. The act was a grounding one, the cold links a sobering proof that all of this was real. Adagium's feet twitched under her hands, and she jerked back.

‘Break the chains of fate,’ the boy had once, long ago advised her. She’d thought he’d meant metaphorical, not literal chains. She knew, deep in her bones, that there was only one path she could take now. The person she knew herself to be in her dreams would never walk away from someone in need. And neither would she do so now.

Even if it meant going against the Gods.

She stood, wiping the few escaped tears from her eyes and nodded. “Alright,” she said aloud, more to herself and the listening messenger than to the hanging man. “I’ve made my decision.”

Adagium's eyes tried to track her as she paced in front of him and put her mind to figuring out how to accomplish her goal. The chains were tight, deeply embedded in both the wall and his flesh. Tentatively she reached out and gently tugged on one of the chains suspending him in the air.

The pained gasp that followed had her rapidly backing up, hands in the air, whispering, “Sorry.”

She waited for his ragged breathing to calm down before approaching again. Better start with something easier.

The whimpered, “No…” almost had her backing off again as he twisted, taking advantage of the minute amount the chains allowed him to get away from her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered to him and kneeled at his feet. He immediately stopped squirming and gave her a befuddled look. Deciding it would be best to talk through what she was doing, so she didn’t surprise him again, she said, “Let’s start with getting these off your legs first, okay?”

She stared up at him, hands hovering over the chains as she waited to see what he’d do. Did he understand what was happening? Would he give her permission? How aware was he?

She didn’t have to wait long for a slight nod.

At that she gave him a smile and then turned herself to her task. Gently feeling around the chains, she tried to find a catch, an end, something to unlatch to remove them. As she worked, she began to hum a soft tune. Something to fill the silence and hopefully keep him calm. It was a short, repetitive tune. Something she heard often in her dreams.

There was no give in the chains. They were wrapped too tightly around his ankles. And she could find no lock or catch to open them with… had they been welded closed while still on him?

Pushing aside her feelings on that for the moment, she kept up the humming, not giving up on finding a way to get the chains off him.

“Ok, not as easy as I thought,” she interrupted her humming to say.

She started to tug a bit more insistently at them, trying to loosen them, even if it was just a little. It was as she did this that a slight, static shock jumped from the chain to her hand.

“Ow!” she squeaked, shaking out her hand.

Sylva glared at the chain for a moment and then grinned with a sudden idea.

She’d paused in her humming at the shock but now closed her eyes and resumed it, placing her hands on the chains and focusing her magic. Within the chains she could feel remnants of old magic. Some of it familiar, some of it not. Either way she could tell that it had weakened considerably over the years. In fact, if she pushed her power into it just so…

She quickly glanced up to see that the man’s eyes had closed, head once again hanging loosely. A soft sound of pain followed on the heels of each exhale.

Closing her own eyes, she focused. Focused on the hymn she was humming, on the slight spark of magic between her fingertips. In tune with the song, she began to poke and prod with her own magic. Eventually, finally, she found a small little crack in the chain, a place that had been worn away with time. She pushed into it with a violent burst of magic, clenching her fists around the chains.

Beneath her hands, it shattered into tiny particles of glass.

She blinked her eyes open and gasped at the sight before a triumphant grin spread over her face.

“Aera…” was breathed above her. There was that word again. What did it mean? He seemed to have lost his ability to focus, eyes having trouble tracking her as she stood.

She was so close to him now she could feel the sensitive hairs on the crown of her head move with his every exhale.

Wrapping both hands around the spike sticking out of the side of his stomach, the one closest to her, she quietly informed him, “Let’s see if it works here as well, yeah?”

A slight groan was all he responded with so she decided to continue. She didn’t want to have to inflict pain on him just to get his attention, if her voice wasn’t enough.

The magic came easier this time, and she found the point of weakness even quicker. With a flick of her wrist, she broke the links between her hands, the rest of the length crumbling away.

He let out a startled cry, followed by, “W-what?”

He stared at the space the spike used to be. She followed his gaze to see something dark and viscous oozing out of the quickly closing hole. She shined her light directly on it, morbidly curious. It wasn’t flowing like blood. And in the light, it wasn’t red either, but a strange black colour.

Well… if she’d had any doubts about him also being a daemon…

No, that didn’t matter. 

“Who… **are** you?” he asked. “Am I… still dreaming?”

She wanted to reassure him, take this slow so as not to hurt him too badly, but as she opened her mouth, a voice whispered in her ear, _‘Hurry. Hurry. They’re coming. Hurry.’_

“I…” she hesitated over what to say, grabbing another chain as she spoke. “My name is Sylva.” With a sparkle and a pained grunt from him, she destroyed another chain. Two down, eight to go.

“Pleased to meet you,” she reached around and grabbed another chain, “Is what I wish I could say.” With another pulse of her magic and a blue flash the chain was gone. She was getting faster already. 

His body shifted where it hung, the spikes digging into him at new angles as she broke some of the tension holding him in place. His pained grunt was this time followed by a whine and he tossed his head, his long hair sticking to his face. 

_‘Hurry.’_

Urgency filled her movements. She was running out of time. Her desire to take this slow, both for his safety as well as her own would have to be pushed aside. She’d just have to take the chance that he wouldn’t attack her once she finished.

… but how could someone be both a daemon and a human at the same time?

She reached around him to grip two of the chains in his back, her chest almost touching his naked one. His breath tickled the top of her head. Again, it seemed it was no time at all before both chains broke apart in her hands.

He screamed this time, the four remaining chains pulling even more taut.

She pulled back to assess which ones she should do next when he started to thrash. He kneed her in the side, sending her stumbling against the rune stones.

"Get away!"

She worked quickly, frantic to quiet his screams lest the guards hear them. The sounds cut into her more deeply than the pain of a stranger normally would. 

Sylva climbed up on the stones circling him. Using the extra height, she managed to disperse the two chains piercing his right hand and shoulder.

He howled. His body swung to the opposite side of the room, held aloft with only the spikes in his left hand and shoulder. Adagium tried to hold himself up with feet that now touched the ground, but they would not hold his weight.

Lips pressed tight together, Sylva nimbly hopped across the rune stones until she reached his other side. She made quick work of the remaining chains.

He fell to the ground in a boneless slump.

The silence that followed was deafening as she held her breath, the old fear temporarily welling up as she waited to see if he’d attack. But over the pounding of her heart in her ears, all she heard was the quiet moans that were coming from him.

While she watched, he slowly tried to support himself on hands oozing the black scourge. He quickly failed and slumped back onto the ground.

She let out a ragged breath and berated herself for the sudden fear. Of course she didn’t have to worry. She’d been sure she was making the right decision freeing him. There was no point in falling back into the old fears the tales had fostered in her.

 _See with unclouded eyes,_ Sylva reminded herself. And what she saw was a man who needed her help.

He flinched when she jumped down from her perch. Again she berated herself for giving in to her fear, when he was so obviously afraid and hurting.

“Sorry,” she apologized and smiled her most non-threatening smile.

‘ _You’re almost out of time,_ ’ said a boyish voice, followed by soft footsteps that left no trace in the dust.

She nodded to show she heard, then spoke to Adagium once more. “We need to hurry.”

With a strength most didn’t think she had, she wrapped his arm over her shoulder and heaved him to his feet. He groaned, obviously not ready to be moved yet, but they didn't have long until the guards came.

His legs were unsteady, but with every few steps they gained a bit more strength. She still had to practically drag him up the steps, panting and sweaty by the time they made it to the top, whispering encouragement to him the whole way.

Turning off her light, she managed to squeeze the both of them through the crack in the stone door she’d made earlier. Then they were out in the open, under the stars.

She didn’t know where she would take him. Sylva hadn’t planned any of this, after all. And who knew how her mom would react. Let alone the Lucians whose guards were on their way.

All she knew for sure was… she’d done the right thing.

She’d broken the physical chains of fate. Now she just had to break the figurative ones.

If it meant their false peace was at an end, then so be it.

This was **her** story. And she wouldn’t let others dictate it to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this continued it would basically be Sylva participating in Episode Ardyn. Regis and his retinue would also have featured- hunting Sylva and Ardyn. Some of the Aeons would have played central roles as well, particularly Bahamut and Valefor- as seen here. 
> 
> Anyway, that's all for now. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


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